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If horror movies were somehow const
If horror movies were somehow constructed via a sports-style draft, imagine what visual and storytelling elements would be top picks. Flickering lightbulbs? Sure thing. Mysterious basement? You bet. Shrieking children? Most definitely. So it’s a testament to Australian director Jennifer Kent’s feature debut "The Babadook" that it manages to incorporate so many of these ingredients from lesser films to create something that's compelling even when it's not disturbing on a primordial level.
Amelia (Essie Davis) is a nursing home worker and single mom raising Sam (Noah Wiseman), her monsters-obsessed son. In the opening scenes, Amelia is an attentive mother, patiently guiding Sam through his fears and helping him quell his urges to make weapons to vanquish unseen baddies. As she reads him bedtime stories and lets him take up the opposite side of the bed, there’s still an uneasy sense of physical space. The unseen barrier between them is the memory of Oskar, Amelia’s husband who was killed in a car accident en route to the hospital right before Sam’s birth.
This simmering familial tension bubbles to the surface with the sudden appearance of an innocent-looking children’s book titled “Mister Babadook.” As Amelia flips through the pages and reads them aloud, the deceptively simple rhyme turns sinister and the titular spooky black specter in the book's pop-up illustrations (expertly rendered by designer Alex Juhasz) sends Sam into a crying fit. Comforting her frightened child, we see the first subtle indications that the story may have affected her, too.
The ill-advised late-night story session is the first example of Kent's repeated choice to give us the cause and aftermath of key expository moments while editing out the central action. The last pages of the Babadook story cuts to Sam’s fear weeping, with no sense of how long Amelia has attempted to undo the damage. The beginnings of a playground misadventure reach their most dangerous point, but we're left to fill in exactly how that too ends in tears. It’s a small but supremely effective storytelling device that helps stack up the tension.
As Sam’s makeshift weapons jeopardize his school work and his repetition of the dangers of the Babadook endanger Amelia's various friendships, the two retreat to their home, both ravaged by the psychological threat of the storybook monster. It's there that Amelia’s dreams start blending with her shifting sense of reality, mirrored nicely by Kent's introduction of some familiar, but no less upsetting, sequences of supernatural horror.
The specificity of the Sam-Amelia relationship also keeps the film from stagnating once their house becomes a physical embodiment of Amelia's mental prison. Every outside character interaction and development within the confines of the house is in service of deepening our understanding of the complicated history between mother and son. Sam's obsession with keeping the idea of the Babadook alive is as strong as Amelia's insistence on banishing all memory of her late husband to the room below the house.
The film takes great care to sharpen the details in Amelia’s life so that when trouble comes along, it magnifies her anxiety. The family house is a visual counterpart to Amelia’s mood, a palette of dark blues that lets Davis' blonde hair and plain clothing pop out even in its dimly-lit corners. As Amelia descends into lengthy periods of mental unrest, that head of hair progresses from neatly kempt to a disheveled mess. The occasional distorted-focus POV shot also gives us a firsthand indication that this ordeal is affecting her more than she’s letting on.
The family roles are established so strongly in the film’s opening scenes that it's made all the more unsettling to see the two gradually begin to swap the roles of protector and antagonist. Davis’ slow transformation in demeanor and appearance leaves room for Kent’s script to find new ways of highlighting Sam’s childlike love and devotion alongside Amelia’s uneasiness to relinquish the past. Some of Sam's early disturbed-child shriek sessions and the late-film exponential ramp-up of one character's psychotic tendencies may be slightly overemphasized, but all of it is rooted in the careful groundwork laid early on.
"The Babadook” isn't a transcendent horror film. But its ability to handle and manipulate the conventional tropes apparent in so many of its peers makes it a satisfying ride.
Amelia (Essie Davis) is a nursing home worker and single mom raising Sam (Noah Wiseman), her monsters-obsessed son. In the opening scenes, Amelia is an attentive mother, patiently guiding Sam through his fears and helping him quell his urges to make weapons to vanquish unseen baddies. As she reads him bedtime stories and lets him take up the opposite side of the bed, there’s still an uneasy sense of physical space. The unseen barrier between them is the memory of Oskar, Amelia’s husband who was killed in a car accident en route to the hospital right before Sam’s birth.
This simmering familial tension bubbles to the surface with the sudden appearance of an innocent-looking children’s book titled “Mister Babadook.” As Amelia flips through the pages and reads them aloud, the deceptively simple rhyme turns sinister and the titular spooky black specter in the book's pop-up illustrations (expertly rendered by designer Alex Juhasz) sends Sam into a crying fit. Comforting her frightened child, we see the first subtle indications that the story may have affected her, too.
The ill-advised late-night story session is the first example of Kent's repeated choice to give us the cause and aftermath of key expository moments while editing out the central action. The last pages of the Babadook story cuts to Sam’s fear weeping, with no sense of how long Amelia has attempted to undo the damage. The beginnings of a playground misadventure reach their most dangerous point, but we're left to fill in exactly how that too ends in tears. It’s a small but supremely effective storytelling device that helps stack up the tension.
As Sam’s makeshift weapons jeopardize his school work and his repetition of the dangers of the Babadook endanger Amelia's various friendships, the two retreat to their home, both ravaged by the psychological threat of the storybook monster. It's there that Amelia’s dreams start blending with her shifting sense of reality, mirrored nicely by Kent's introduction of some familiar, but no less upsetting, sequences of supernatural horror.
The specificity of the Sam-Amelia relationship also keeps the film from stagnating once their house becomes a physical embodiment of Amelia's mental prison. Every outside character interaction and development within the confines of the house is in service of deepening our understanding of the complicated history between mother and son. Sam's obsession with keeping the idea of the Babadook alive is as strong as Amelia's insistence on banishing all memory of her late husband to the room below the house.
The film takes great care to sharpen the details in Amelia’s life so that when trouble comes along, it magnifies her anxiety. The family house is a visual counterpart to Amelia’s mood, a palette of dark blues that lets Davis' blonde hair and plain clothing pop out even in its dimly-lit corners. As Amelia descends into lengthy periods of mental unrest, that head of hair progresses from neatly kempt to a disheveled mess. The occasional distorted-focus POV shot also gives us a firsthand indication that this ordeal is affecting her more than she’s letting on.
The family roles are established so strongly in the film’s opening scenes that it's made all the more unsettling to see the two gradually begin to swap the roles of protector and antagonist. Davis’ slow transformation in demeanor and appearance leaves room for Kent’s script to find new ways of highlighting Sam’s childlike love and devotion alongside Amelia’s uneasiness to relinquish the past. Some of Sam's early disturbed-child shriek sessions and the late-film exponential ramp-up of one character's psychotic tendencies may be slightly overemphasized, but all of it is rooted in the careful groundwork laid early on.
"The Babadook” isn't a transcendent horror film. But its ability to handle and manipulate the conventional tropes apparent in so many of its peers makes it a satisfying ride.
0/5000
If horror movies were somehow constructed via a sports-style draft, imagine what visual and storytelling elements would be top picks. Flickering lightbulbs? Sure thing. Mysterious basement? You bet. Shrieking children? Most definitely. So it’s a testament to Australian director Jennifer Kent’s feature debut "The Babadook" that it manages to incorporate so many of these ingredients from lesser films to create something that's compelling even when it's not disturbing on a primordial level.Amelia (Essie Davis) is a nursing home worker and single mom raising Sam (Noah Wiseman), her monsters-obsessed son. In the opening scenes, Amelia is an attentive mother, patiently guiding Sam through his fears and helping him quell his urges to make weapons to vanquish unseen baddies. As she reads him bedtime stories and lets him take up the opposite side of the bed, there’s still an uneasy sense of physical space. The unseen barrier between them is the memory of Oskar, Amelia’s husband who was killed in a car accident en route to the hospital right before Sam’s birth. This simmering familial tension bubbles to the surface with the sudden appearance of an innocent-looking children’s book titled “Mister Babadook.” As Amelia flips through the pages and reads them aloud, the deceptively simple rhyme turns sinister and the titular spooky black specter in the book's pop-up illustrations (expertly rendered by designer Alex Juhasz) sends Sam into a crying fit. Comforting her frightened child, we see the first subtle indications that the story may have affected her, too. The ill-advised late-night story session is the first example of Kent's repeated choice to give us the cause and aftermath of key expository moments while editing out the central action. The last pages of the Babadook story cuts to Sam’s fear weeping, with no sense of how long Amelia has attempted to undo the damage. The beginnings of a playground misadventure reach their most dangerous point, but we're left to fill in exactly how that too ends in tears. It’s a small but supremely effective storytelling device that helps stack up the tension.As Sam’s makeshift weapons jeopardize his school work and his repetition of the dangers of the Babadook endanger Amelia's various friendships, the two retreat to their home, both ravaged by the psychological threat of the storybook monster. It's there that Amelia’s dreams start blending with her shifting sense of reality, mirrored nicely by Kent's introduction of some familiar, but no less upsetting, sequences of supernatural horror. The specificity of the Sam-Amelia relationship also keeps the film from stagnating once their house becomes a physical embodiment of Amelia's mental prison. Every outside character interaction and development within the confines of the house is in service of deepening our understanding of the complicated history between mother and son. Sam's obsession with keeping the idea of the Babadook alive is as strong as Amelia's insistence on banishing all memory of her late husband to the room below the house. The film takes great care to sharpen the details in Amelia’s life so that when trouble comes along, it magnifies her anxiety. The family house is a visual counterpart to Amelia’s mood, a palette of dark blues that lets Davis' blonde hair and plain clothing pop out even in its dimly-lit corners. As Amelia descends into lengthy periods of mental unrest, that head of hair progresses from neatly kempt to a disheveled mess. The occasional distorted-focus POV shot also gives us a firsthand indication that this ordeal is affecting her more than she’s letting on. The family roles are established so strongly in the film’s opening scenes that it's made all the more unsettling to see the two gradually begin to swap the roles of protector and antagonist. Davis’ slow transformation in demeanor and appearance leaves room for Kent’s script to find new ways of highlighting Sam’s childlike love and devotion alongside Amelia’s uneasiness to relinquish the past. Some of Sam's early disturbed-child shriek sessions and the late-film exponential ramp-up of one character's psychotic tendencies may be slightly overemphasized, but all of it is rooted in the careful groundwork laid early on. "The Babadook” isn't a transcendent horror film. But its ability to handle and manipulate the conventional tropes apparent in so many of its peers makes it a satisfying ride.
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If horror movies were somehow constructed via a sports-style draft, imagine what visual and storytelling elements would be top picks. Flickering lightbulbs? Sure thing. Mysterious basement? You bet. Shrieking children? Most definitely. So it’s a testament to Australian director Jennifer Kent’s feature debut "The Babadook" that it manages to incorporate so many of these ingredients from lesser films to create something that's compelling even when it's not disturbing on a primordial level.
Amelia (Essie Davis) is a nursing home worker and single mom raising Sam (Noah Wiseman), her monsters-obsessed son. In the opening scenes, Amelia is an attentive mother, patiently guiding Sam through his fears and helping him quell his urges to make weapons to vanquish unseen baddies. As she reads him bedtime stories and lets him take up the opposite side of the bed, there’s still an uneasy sense of physical space. The unseen barrier between them is the memory of Oskar, Amelia’s husband who was killed in a car accident en route to the hospital right before Sam’s birth.
This simmering familial tension bubbles to the surface with the sudden appearance of an innocent-looking children’s book titled “Mister Babadook.” As Amelia flips through the pages and reads them aloud, the deceptively simple rhyme turns sinister and the titular spooky black specter in the book's pop-up illustrations (expertly rendered by designer Alex Juhasz) sends Sam into a crying fit. Comforting her frightened child, we see the first subtle indications that the story may have affected her, too.
The ill-advised late-night story session is the first example of Kent's repeated choice to give us the cause and aftermath of key expository moments while editing out the central action. The last pages of the Babadook story cuts to Sam’s fear weeping, with no sense of how long Amelia has attempted to undo the damage. The beginnings of a playground misadventure reach their most dangerous point, but we're left to fill in exactly how that too ends in tears. It’s a small but supremely effective storytelling device that helps stack up the tension.
As Sam’s makeshift weapons jeopardize his school work and his repetition of the dangers of the Babadook endanger Amelia's various friendships, the two retreat to their home, both ravaged by the psychological threat of the storybook monster. It's there that Amelia’s dreams start blending with her shifting sense of reality, mirrored nicely by Kent's introduction of some familiar, but no less upsetting, sequences of supernatural horror.
The specificity of the Sam-Amelia relationship also keeps the film from stagnating once their house becomes a physical embodiment of Amelia's mental prison. Every outside character interaction and development within the confines of the house is in service of deepening our understanding of the complicated history between mother and son. Sam's obsession with keeping the idea of the Babadook alive is as strong as Amelia's insistence on banishing all memory of her late husband to the room below the house.
The film takes great care to sharpen the details in Amelia’s life so that when trouble comes along, it magnifies her anxiety. The family house is a visual counterpart to Amelia’s mood, a palette of dark blues that lets Davis' blonde hair and plain clothing pop out even in its dimly-lit corners. As Amelia descends into lengthy periods of mental unrest, that head of hair progresses from neatly kempt to a disheveled mess. The occasional distorted-focus POV shot also gives us a firsthand indication that this ordeal is affecting her more than she’s letting on.
The family roles are established so strongly in the film’s opening scenes that it's made all the more unsettling to see the two gradually begin to swap the roles of protector and antagonist. Davis’ slow transformation in demeanor and appearance leaves room for Kent’s script to find new ways of highlighting Sam’s childlike love and devotion alongside Amelia’s uneasiness to relinquish the past. Some of Sam's early disturbed-child shriek sessions and the late-film exponential ramp-up of one character's psychotic tendencies may be slightly overemphasized, but all of it is rooted in the careful groundwork laid early on.
"The Babadook” isn't a transcendent horror film. But its ability to handle and manipulate the conventional tropes apparent in so many of its peers makes it a satisfying ride.
Amelia (Essie Davis) is a nursing home worker and single mom raising Sam (Noah Wiseman), her monsters-obsessed son. In the opening scenes, Amelia is an attentive mother, patiently guiding Sam through his fears and helping him quell his urges to make weapons to vanquish unseen baddies. As she reads him bedtime stories and lets him take up the opposite side of the bed, there’s still an uneasy sense of physical space. The unseen barrier between them is the memory of Oskar, Amelia’s husband who was killed in a car accident en route to the hospital right before Sam’s birth.
This simmering familial tension bubbles to the surface with the sudden appearance of an innocent-looking children’s book titled “Mister Babadook.” As Amelia flips through the pages and reads them aloud, the deceptively simple rhyme turns sinister and the titular spooky black specter in the book's pop-up illustrations (expertly rendered by designer Alex Juhasz) sends Sam into a crying fit. Comforting her frightened child, we see the first subtle indications that the story may have affected her, too.
The ill-advised late-night story session is the first example of Kent's repeated choice to give us the cause and aftermath of key expository moments while editing out the central action. The last pages of the Babadook story cuts to Sam’s fear weeping, with no sense of how long Amelia has attempted to undo the damage. The beginnings of a playground misadventure reach their most dangerous point, but we're left to fill in exactly how that too ends in tears. It’s a small but supremely effective storytelling device that helps stack up the tension.
As Sam’s makeshift weapons jeopardize his school work and his repetition of the dangers of the Babadook endanger Amelia's various friendships, the two retreat to their home, both ravaged by the psychological threat of the storybook monster. It's there that Amelia’s dreams start blending with her shifting sense of reality, mirrored nicely by Kent's introduction of some familiar, but no less upsetting, sequences of supernatural horror.
The specificity of the Sam-Amelia relationship also keeps the film from stagnating once their house becomes a physical embodiment of Amelia's mental prison. Every outside character interaction and development within the confines of the house is in service of deepening our understanding of the complicated history between mother and son. Sam's obsession with keeping the idea of the Babadook alive is as strong as Amelia's insistence on banishing all memory of her late husband to the room below the house.
The film takes great care to sharpen the details in Amelia’s life so that when trouble comes along, it magnifies her anxiety. The family house is a visual counterpart to Amelia’s mood, a palette of dark blues that lets Davis' blonde hair and plain clothing pop out even in its dimly-lit corners. As Amelia descends into lengthy periods of mental unrest, that head of hair progresses from neatly kempt to a disheveled mess. The occasional distorted-focus POV shot also gives us a firsthand indication that this ordeal is affecting her more than she’s letting on.
The family roles are established so strongly in the film’s opening scenes that it's made all the more unsettling to see the two gradually begin to swap the roles of protector and antagonist. Davis’ slow transformation in demeanor and appearance leaves room for Kent’s script to find new ways of highlighting Sam’s childlike love and devotion alongside Amelia’s uneasiness to relinquish the past. Some of Sam's early disturbed-child shriek sessions and the late-film exponential ramp-up of one character's psychotic tendencies may be slightly overemphasized, but all of it is rooted in the careful groundwork laid early on.
"The Babadook” isn't a transcendent horror film. But its ability to handle and manipulate the conventional tropes apparent in so many of its peers makes it a satisfying ride.
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ถ้าหนังถูกอย่างใดสร้างผ่านสไตล์กีฬาร่างจินตนาการภาพอะไร และเล่าเรื่องได้สุดยอด . ไฟหลอดไฟ ? แน่นอน ใต้ดินลึกลับ ? คุณเดิมพัน เสียงกรีดร้องของเด็ก ? แน่นอนที่สุดดังนั้นจึงเป็นข้อพิสูจน์ของผู้กำกับชาวออสเตรเลีย เจนนิเฟอร์ เคนท์คุณลักษณะเปิดตัว " babadook " มันจัดการรวมมากของส่วนผสมเหล่านี้น้อยกว่าภาพยนตร์ เพื่อสร้างสิ่งที่น่าสนใจแม้เมื่อมันไม่ได้รบกวนในระดับประถม
อมีเลีย ( ซี่ เดวิส ) เป็นพยาบาล คนงาน และบ้านแม่คนเดียวเลี้ยงแซม ( โนอาห์ ไวซ์แมน ) , นางปีศาจครอบงำลูก ในฉากเปิดเอมิเลีย เป็นแม่ที่เอาใจใส่อย่างอดทนชี้นำแซมผ่านความกลัวของเขาและช่วยเขาระงับความต้องการของเขาที่จะทำให้อาวุธปราบที่มองไม่เห็น baddies ขณะที่เธออ่านนิทานก่อนนอนให้เขาและเขาใช้เวลาถึงฝั่งตรงข้ามของเตียงนอน ยังมีความรู้สึกอึดอัดของพื้นที่ทางกายภาพ อุปสรรคที่มองไม่เห็นระหว่างพวกเขาเป็นหน่วยความจำของ Oskar ,เอมิเลีย ของสามีที่ตายในอุบัติเหตุทางรถ ระหว่างทางไปโรงพยาบาล ก่อนที่แซมเกิด
นี่ simmering ความตึงเครียดทางฟองกับพื้นผิวที่มีลักษณะอย่างไร้เดียงสามองหนังสือเด็กที่ชื่อ " คุณ babadook . " เอมิเลียพลิกผ่านหน้าและอ่านมันออกมาดัง ๆสัมผัสง่าย deceptively กลายเป็นน่ากลัวเหมือนผีและวิญญาณในยศสีดำภาพประกอบหนังสือป๊อป - อัพ ( Expertly ออกแบบให้อเล็กซ์ juhasz ) ส่งแซมเป็นร้องไห้พอดี ปลอบโยนเธอกลัวลูกเราดูครั้งแรกบอบบางนั้นเรื่องที่อาจมีผลกระทบต่อเธอด้วย
ผู้ป่วยควรดึกราวเซสชันตัวอย่างแรกของเคนท์ซ้ำทางเลือกที่จะให้เราสาเหตุและผลที่ตามมาของช่วงเวลาแบบคีย์ในขณะที่การแก้ไขออกปฏิบัติการกลาง หน้าสุดท้ายของเรื่อง babadook ตัดกับแซมกลัวร้องไห้ กับไม่มีความรู้สึกแค่ไหน เอมิเลีย ได้พยายามที่จะแก้ไขความเสียหาย จุดเริ่มต้นของสนามเด็กเล่นโชคร้ายถึงจุดที่อันตรายที่สุดของพวกเขา
อมีเลีย ( ซี่ เดวิส ) เป็นพยาบาล คนงาน และบ้านแม่คนเดียวเลี้ยงแซม ( โนอาห์ ไวซ์แมน ) , นางปีศาจครอบงำลูก ในฉากเปิดเอมิเลีย เป็นแม่ที่เอาใจใส่อย่างอดทนชี้นำแซมผ่านความกลัวของเขาและช่วยเขาระงับความต้องการของเขาที่จะทำให้อาวุธปราบที่มองไม่เห็น baddies ขณะที่เธออ่านนิทานก่อนนอนให้เขาและเขาใช้เวลาถึงฝั่งตรงข้ามของเตียงนอน ยังมีความรู้สึกอึดอัดของพื้นที่ทางกายภาพ อุปสรรคที่มองไม่เห็นระหว่างพวกเขาเป็นหน่วยความจำของ Oskar ,เอมิเลีย ของสามีที่ตายในอุบัติเหตุทางรถ ระหว่างทางไปโรงพยาบาล ก่อนที่แซมเกิด
นี่ simmering ความตึงเครียดทางฟองกับพื้นผิวที่มีลักษณะอย่างไร้เดียงสามองหนังสือเด็กที่ชื่อ " คุณ babadook . " เอมิเลียพลิกผ่านหน้าและอ่านมันออกมาดัง ๆสัมผัสง่าย deceptively กลายเป็นน่ากลัวเหมือนผีและวิญญาณในยศสีดำภาพประกอบหนังสือป๊อป - อัพ ( Expertly ออกแบบให้อเล็กซ์ juhasz ) ส่งแซมเป็นร้องไห้พอดี ปลอบโยนเธอกลัวลูกเราดูครั้งแรกบอบบางนั้นเรื่องที่อาจมีผลกระทบต่อเธอด้วย
ผู้ป่วยควรดึกราวเซสชันตัวอย่างแรกของเคนท์ซ้ำทางเลือกที่จะให้เราสาเหตุและผลที่ตามมาของช่วงเวลาแบบคีย์ในขณะที่การแก้ไขออกปฏิบัติการกลาง หน้าสุดท้ายของเรื่อง babadook ตัดกับแซมกลัวร้องไห้ กับไม่มีความรู้สึกแค่ไหน เอมิเลีย ได้พยายามที่จะแก้ไขความเสียหาย จุดเริ่มต้นของสนามเด็กเล่นโชคร้ายถึงจุดที่อันตรายที่สุดของพวกเขา
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ภาษาอื่น ๆ
การสนับสนุนเครื่องมือแปลภาษา: กรีก, กันนาดา, กาลิเชียน, คลิงออน, คอร์สิกา, คาซัค, คาตาลัน, คินยารวันดา, คีร์กิซ, คุชราต, จอร์เจีย, จีน, จีนดั้งเดิม, ชวา, ชิเชวา, ซามัว, ซีบัวโน, ซุนดา, ซูลู, ญี่ปุ่น, ดัตช์, ตรวจหาภาษา, ตุรกี, ทมิฬ, ทาจิก, ทาทาร์, นอร์เวย์, บอสเนีย, บัลแกเรีย, บาสก์, ปัญจาป, ฝรั่งเศส, พาชตู, ฟริเชียน, ฟินแลนด์, ฟิลิปปินส์, ภาษาอินโดนีเซี, มองโกเลีย, มัลทีส, มาซีโดเนีย, มาราฐี, มาลากาซี, มาลายาลัม, มาเลย์, ม้ง, ยิดดิช, ยูเครน, รัสเซีย, ละติน, ลักเซมเบิร์ก, ลัตเวีย, ลาว, ลิทัวเนีย, สวาฮิลี, สวีเดน, สิงหล, สินธี, สเปน, สโลวัก, สโลวีเนีย, อังกฤษ, อัมฮาริก, อาร์เซอร์ไบจัน, อาร์เมเนีย, อาหรับ, อิกโบ, อิตาลี, อุยกูร์, อุสเบกิสถาน, อูรดู, ฮังการี, ฮัวซา, ฮาวาย, ฮินดี, ฮีบรู, เกลิกสกอต, เกาหลี, เขมร, เคิร์ด, เช็ก, เซอร์เบียน, เซโซโท, เดนมาร์ก, เตลูกู, เติร์กเมน, เนปาล, เบงกอล, เบลารุส, เปอร์เซีย, เมารี, เมียนมา (พม่า), เยอรมัน, เวลส์, เวียดนาม, เอสเปอแรนโต, เอสโทเนีย, เฮติครีโอล, แอฟริกา, แอลเบเนีย, โคซา, โครเอเชีย, โชนา, โซมาลี, โปรตุเกส, โปแลนด์, โยรูบา, โรมาเนีย, โอเดีย (โอริยา), ไทย, ไอซ์แลนด์, ไอร์แลนด์, การแปลภาษา.
- ตอนนี้ยังทันไหม
- ผลลัพธ์ (ภาษาอังกฤษ) 3:every time you ar
- ฉันคิดว่าเขาคงนอกใจเธอแล้ว
- no one played the piano yet
- I feel good even though after that I wil
- Conversation analysis (CA), like other f
- Death
- The field of semiotic
- ฉันขอให้คุณหายเหนื่อยไวๆนะ
- I want to love you Ante approval
- a lot of fot
- ฉันไม่รู้อะไรเกี่ยวกับสวีเดนเลย
- brush your teeth
- I read the news
- Process
- love you only
- ยังมีเขานะ
- ฉันคิดว่าเขาคงนอกใจเธอแล้ว
- Zenny famous designer
- เจ้าบ้าน
- ATEX
- คุณจะพักอยู่กรุงเทพนานไหม
- ฉันพูดคำว่าอะไรกับคุณ
- คุณพุดถูก
